A: Hey! Just saw your message. Sorry for the delay—got swallowed by a glacier that migrated south. I’m inside the ice now. Surprisingly roomy. Hope you’re well.
B: Oh my god, I’m so glad you made it through. That must’ve been really frightening. I’ve been meaning to check in, but the moon’s been stuck really low for days, and everyone in the apartment building has moon sickness. The landlords taped aluminum foil over the windows, but it made the insomnia worse. Do you want us to send you heat lamps?
A: That’s so kind, thank you. I would say yes, but the glacier developed a consciousness yesterday. It doesn’t like artificial light. Calls it “the synthetic burn.” It sings to me at night. Also, I think it’s trying to teach me patience through sub-zero isolation. Miss you.
B: Miss you too. Honestly, not surprised about the glacier. The earth’s crust cracked open here last week, and we lost four Whole Foods. My roommate’s been building a pulley system out of old USB cables so we can send down granola bars to the people who fell in. The pit keeps whispering my name.
